My Daddy
by blessthecharter
Summary: Companion piece to "His Baby." Rose must make some hard decisions as her life turns from school to work. Where will the Malfoys, the youngest in particular, fit into her Weasley-obsessed life?  Rated T for allusions to sexual encounters


AN: I own nothing but my pretty laptop. I hope you guys enjoy the compainion piece. It should be a two-shot (maybe three, depending on how graduation goes). I promise you will have it as soon as it is written :D

Happy reading!

**Future Plans**

There arose a soft knock on my door as I neatly folded my last pair of shorts into the magically expanding duffle (thank Mother for that one). I called for it to open, knowing only three people to be stupid enough to bang on the Head Girl's door so late after hours. I rolled my eyes at my cousins' and boyfriend's stupidity.

A bouquet of roses, pale peach in complexion, slithered through the door, followed by a hand and then a stripped sleeve. I laughed.

"Scorpius!" He stuck his head through the barely-there opening, his face glowing with his usual mix of smugness and accomplishment. He loved making me happy. I zipped the top of the duffle as he strode into the room and presented the flowers to me.

"For you," he said with a bow and a flourish.

"Really?" I feigned surprise. "Out of all the eligible young maidens here? I just can't believe my luck! And I thought for sure Amelia Boot with the way she kept eying you during dinner and all was going to win—oof!"

He pulled me to him and shuffled his head into my hair. My arms immediately went where they always did: one around his back and one on the top of his hair. He sighed, and my chest tightened just a bit. A sigh like that meant that something was horribly, terribly wrong. That some big plan had fallen to ruins. That his anal retentive tendencies had to rebuild his master plan, and that he'd be in a funk for the next 32 hours until he had time to adjust everything. Unfortunately, we didn't have 32 hours for him to cheer up.

Tomorrow morning was graduation.

"Scorp? Hey, what's wrong?" I stroked the back of his head while the flowers brushed my back.

"ey dom du-ee myerrda brekkin uhn uyaya," comes the muffles response. I choke back a laugh because, honestly, what type of girlfriend would I be if I laughed at his obvious hurt?

And he brought me flowers, which would make laughing the worse karma ever.

Despite my attempts to be soothing, a small giggle escaped me. He drew back quickly, a scowl on his face.

"I'm serious, Rose!"

"I know. I know; I'm sorry," I consoled quickly. Whoops. "I didn't mean to laugh. I couldn't understand you and you were tickling me and you just seemed so downtrodden before our big day. It's unlike you." He stepped back and brought the roses up between us.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"Why?" I said.

But he didn't have to answer. I knew why. One look into his grey eyes, today stormy, yesterday cozy, and I knew what he was feeling. It matched my own.

We had never truly lived outside of this castle. Both of our parents being quite legendary in social and political circles, we tried to keep to ourselves as much as possible. With the rumor mill that seemed to seep out of Hogwarts's walls, however, that meant keeping ourselves behind closed doors, which we both hated. Two extroverted people, forced to live their lives somewhat quietly: it wasn't a picture we liked to discuss.

It was worse on the Holidays. While at school, we could hold hands between classes, sit by the lake, and even Al didn't mind if Scorpius hung out in the Heads' common room (How Al became Head Boy, I'll never understand; he's such an incorrigible prankster). When we were home, though, there was nothing. We had to floo over to each other's houses. Normally his: Daddy always freaked out and paid Hugo to watch our every move. The time together was better, but it wasn't as consistent. I always missed him. He missed me, too. Despite the closed (and usually _locked_) doors, we had made do. We spent all the time we could together, laughing, studying, joking, loving. It was perfect and simple. He was my best friend.

In four days all of that would be gone. We graduated tomorrow and took the train home three days later. There would be no more school, no more protected walls, no more comfy bubble where it was just us. I wanted to be a curse-breaker; he wanted to go into The Ministry. We hadn't really talked about how to stay _us_ when the entire context of us was changing.

We were perfect and simple. We didn't want to change.

I nodded at him, pulling him back to me. I tucked into him this time, whispering, "We'll figure it out. You always have a plan."

"But what if I don't?"

"Then maybe I'll have to be the planner for once." We laughed.

"Maybe we should plan together," he suggested, his head still resting atop mine. I always used curse my short height, but with his tall genetics, we fit exactly. I stopped complaining the first time he hugged me.

"Together?" I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, well, maybe we should at least talk about our goals and wishes _together_ before I make a plan."

"That sounds much more like you." I smiled. As many of Mother's control freak traits that I had, Scorpius was worse. Far worse. I lead him to the couch Al and I shared (Al was with Lily and Hugo planning the last big prank), and we curled into one another, watching the fire.

"I never understood why we had fires in June," he muttered.

"It's one of Mother's special fires. No heat, just beauty and happy feelings. She taught me."

"You could have figured it out on your own."

"I know," I said, "but her teaching me things is something we do together. It's who we are. It's bonding time. Don't question. I like the fire."

"Yes, love." He kissed the top of my head and exhaled, slowly. It wasn't dramatic enough to be considered a sigh, but he was definitely feeling things that were sigh-worthy.

"I just want you, Rose. Nothing else."

"Not even that position in the Misuse of Magical Artifacts Department that you beat out over 50 other applicants for? You sure you don't want that?"

"You jest, silly girl. Yes, I want that too, but it's not nearly as important."

Important. A word he used to describe me all the time. He used it on our first date when he said my hungry stomach was important. He used it when word of us got around, saying my happiness was important. He used it when we fought about the Minister, saying my opinion was important. He used it when we planned our first Valentine's, saying my knowledge of his feelings was important. He used it the first time we slept together, saying how important I was to his happiness.

"So, what are our goals, Plan Master?"

"I think," he started, tapping his chin with the hand that wasn't wrapped around my waist, "we should start with the next six months. I've always respected that July was 'Weasley time,' and honestly, your father would hex me if you weren't home for the family vacation. Father and Mum have planned our summer ball at Malfoy Mansion for mid-August, right after your training, and then both of our positions start the next week. I'm excited to plan all our summer picnics." I grinned, remembering what happened on our last picnic.

"Stop that. We're trying to be productive here."

"Sorry!" I gasped when I finished laughing. "You always praise the picnics while planning, curse them while executing, then jump right into planning the next one, despite that nothing went your way the first time around. I think you're just trying to beat the picnic into submission."

"My picnics would go a whole lot more smoothly if you would stop jumping me every time we had more than 10 seconds alone during holiday."

"Do not try to blame me for that. That was team effort, and you know it," I gaped at him. The smirk on his face informed me of my winnings.

"I am rather magnificent."

"Pffftt. as if. I thought we were trying to be productive?"

"Right, productivity. Do we…" he looked into my eyes, "Do we want to live together?"

The question should not have taken me as aback as it did.

"Do we? I know you and Al had talked about getting a flat briefly…" my voice faded. The low crackle of the fire seemed louder.

"We did… We haven't talked about it recently, though. He did get the Auror training position he wanted, though. Harry must be proud…"

"Your dad is proud of you, too, Scorp. He loves you."

"I know." But his eyes didn't tell the same tale.

"So, we'll talk to Al." He snickered.

"I don't think us living together with Al and his womanizer ways is such a good thing."

"Oh, Merlin, and the pranking," I moaned.

"Not to mention our sex life, possible parental-type visitors, and his huge fucking mouth. We'd never have privacy," Scorpius said.

"I want to say yes, Scorp, I do." I turned to look in his eyes. "But what if it's too soon? What if everything falls apart because we're too busy trying to settle our lives individual and we screw up us?"

"We still have the summer to figure things out. I want to say yes, too, but honestly Ronald will blow my fucking head off if he knew the little Malfoy was having his way with the precious Weasely girl. Getting a flat directly after Hogwarts might not be the smartest thing for us." I laughed. Daddy could be so overprotective.

I looked up at him, his face glowing in the firelight. The way his jaw line lead straight back to those pale locks. He was beautiful. And mine. So much mine. I ranted it sometimes in the Great Hall or during a quidditch match when other girls got too close. Mine.

"You know," I started, "even if we didn't live together, we would be at each other's place every day. Think about the logistics of living apart. We'd have dinner at least four, maybe five, times a week.—"

"Sex at least twice a week," he interrupted. His voice had turned gruff; it had been a week. We just didn't have time to shag with NEWTS. "Probably more."

"Leading to sleepovers, averaging three times," I continued, "Over half the time one or both of our flats would be empty since we'll both work full time. It makes so much more sense to live together." I batted my eyes at him, causing a chuckle.

"Fine, but you have to massage my balls after Ronald kicks them up to my throat."

"Why do you call him 'Ronald?' He hates that."

"I never do it to his face. And, you have to admit, he can be a little ridiculous. Watching his face go all red is hysterical!"

"Watch it, bub, or I might help him kick those balls of yours," I warned. His eyes darkened.

"You would never."

"Would I?" I turned for better access to his lips. They met mine with equal passion. We were graduating tomorrow; what was one more night of just us? His tongue grazed mine, and I let a moan escape.

"Scorp—" I breathed, "Bedroom. Now."

And so we spent one more night, just us.


End file.
